The Green Man
by Brittnay Matthews
Summary: Loki and Draco Malfoy have various forms of sex in various locations. Honestly, this is a self-indulgent crackfic. I am beyond surprised at the lack of Draco/Loki fics and, in the great tradition of 'If you want something done, do it yourself', I am writing my own. The first chapter is a little more plot-centred, but the rest of the Chapters will be PWP. Because fuck romance.


It was autumn break. And Draco was home for the week in the Malfoy country estate. He had floo'd home the night before to an empty house; his father in Azkaban, his mother in her aunt's house in Provence, too tired and shell shocked to stay in England. Draco was glad for the quiet; eighth year was difficult. He focused on his schoolwork, trying to ignore the whispers and stares, and insults. It was a relief to be back in his house, despite the house itself behind emptied of most of its furniture and contents, which were sold to help with repatriations or confiscated by the Ministry as dark artefacts. However it was late afternoon when, sick of the accusing glare of house elves and his own reflection, he threw on a coat and made his way into one of the neighbouring villages.

The Malfoys were an old, wealthy, family, who had owned and ran numerous businesses and properties in the surrounding villages, including a pub in the Muggle side of the county. It had been bought several generations ago, by a smart Malfoy ancestor who knew the importance of keeping up appearances and keeping your enemies close. Now, it was run remotely, after Draco's great great aunt had run off with a muggle patron, to the eternal shame of the family. This meant that they had retained ownership after the trials. In fifth year, Draco had realised that he could hide there without his father knowing, while also getting free drinks while, technically, underage. It had become a home away from home and, on reflection, had slowly adjusted some of his more stridently anti muggle beliefs. Having charmed his books to stop moving while still home, Draco slid into a favourite section of the pub; the overstuffed, extremely comfortable lounges near the fireplace, and placed his notebook and fountain pen on the table. He had vague plans to start a History of Magic essay on the Goblin Rebellions but, curled up next to the fire with a beer, he was finding it hard to do anything but sit comfortably, like a cat. Here, he could safely leave his work and food unattended, and even close his eyes without fear of fights starting or things being thrown, as it happened in the common room or great hall.

Hours had passed, and Draco had all but finished a first draft, when Victoria, the young bar hand, placed an ice bucket with vintage champagne in front of him. He blinked at the bottle.

'I didn't order this, Vicky'

'I know,' she replied, rolling her eyes, 'It came from the guy over there.'

She jerked her head behind her, where a tall, slim man stood at the bar, holding an identical flute of champagne. He nodded his head at Draco before making his way over

'Send him my way if you like,' Victoria hissed, before sidling off. The man sat in the chair opposite Draco, crossing one elegant leg over the other. He was dressed in a suit and white shirt, coat in hand, long dark hair pushed off his face.

'I hope this isn't too forward but you seemed hard at work and in need of a break' he murmured in a soft, cut-glass accent. Draco feeling an odd jolt in his stomach, picked up his glass and took a sip, stalling. Since fourth year, he had been aware of the power he could have over women, and men, but being somewhat obnoxious, even now, was not used to it being levelled back at him.

'It is rather forward' he drawled, spurred on by the chilled champagne and mildly tipsy feeling you get through day-drinking a few jugs of beer.

'But I admire your taste. It's a good vintage'

'I do enjoy the finer things' the man replied, green eyes trailing obviously up and down Draco. He swallowed.

'Do you often buy drinks for young men in bars?'

The man smiled 'Only ones who intrigue me.'

'You find me intriguing?'

He smiled again, leaning back in his seat.

'Fascinating'

Three hours later, it was getting late. Draco and the man had talked, almost non-stop, their conversation getting more charged, when the pub door opened and a gust of cold air startled Draco.

'I should go' he said, suddenly aware of the amount of alcohol he had drunk and the need to get out into the fresh air. Several times, the man had leant forward and placed a hand on Draco, to emphasise a point, and he could feel burning handprints as if they were still touching. He needed to leave, to clear his head, because any second more and he would jump either out of his skin, or onto the strange, dark-haired man in front of him.

'Well, I can't let you walk home by yourself, in this weather, in your condition'. He stood up, elegantly, as if the wine was no more than a cordial, shrugging on his cost and reaching a hand down to help pull Draco up. Draco's heart pounded as they walked out into the cold evening, and up the hill through the town centre. Being a teenage boy, Draco was no stranger to his hormones, but he had always assumed that situations like this would be in the reverse; with him the confident, smooth instigator, leading a shy young thing by the arm in the general direction of his house.

Of course, if he had thought harder about it, the person he was leading was normally a faceless, somewhat more...masculine, figure than he would have liked.

'It's a lovely village,' the man said, small puffs of steam coming from his mouth, 'I often come here when I am in the area'

'Are you not from here?' Draco asked, hands in his pockets, eyes on the road

'You could say that'. They stopped in front of the gates of the Malfoy Estate

'I can get back from here fine' Draco said, finally turning to face the taller man, who replied 'Yes I am quite sure you can'. In an instant, he had pressed Draco up against the gates.

Kissing men, Draco mused, was rather altogether different than the hurried kisses he had shared with girls his own age. The man had, quite expertly, drawn an arm around Draco's hips, his other caught in his fine blonde hair, pressing his back into the gates win his own body. The man, although slim, was toned, he could feel his muscles as he ran his hands up his back. He was kissing Draco forcefully, moving his hips in a way that Draco knew would get him hard, if he wasn't already, and he moaned into the man's mouth as his hand fell from Draco's hair to the front of his throat, unbuttoning his shirt before running his hand down to the buckle of his belt. Pressed up against him, their legs tangled together, Draco could feel the other man growing hard as he trailed his mouth down Draco's neck, sucking on the skin where his shoulder began, causing Draco's knees to grow weak. Unbuckling his belt, he slipped his hand into Draco's trousers, palming his erection as his teeth caught Draco's shoulder. Head spinning, from alcohol or arousal, Draco could only twine his hand through the man's long hair, pushing forward with his hips and whimpering in a way that he would blush to remember. He felt the soft tingle of magic and he realised that the man had banished his underwear,allowing him to run his hand back and forth over Draco's cock, growling as Draco began to fuck his hand in earnest. Draco moaned as the man pulled his shirt off his shoulders, licking his chest and biting his way to Draco's nipples as Draco thrust harder into his hand, their erections brushing as he pushed forward. He swore softly as his vision clouded and he came, biting into the man's shoulder and moaning. They stayed, momentarily, in what could almost be called an embrace. Draco took a deep breath, his head swimming. He could feel the man move his hands to the front of Draco's pants, buckling his belt up and adjusting his shirt. The man ducked his head down, grabbing the back of Draco's head and kissing him hard.

'I do hope to see you again soon' he whispered. Draco pressed himself forward, feeling the man's erection against him and making him moan, breath catching. The man stepped back with a small smirk.

'Next time' he promised, kissing Draco's hand and disappearing in a green flash. Draco grasped the portkey in his coat pocket, better late than never, and landed in his room. Feeling himself grow hard at the memory of what had just happened he knew he would not sleep tonight.


End file.
